


Introduction I - Hattori Heiji

by astorii



Series: You See, But Do Not Observe [2]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: AU, Gen, HeiCon Friendship, HeiShin friendship, ShinRan Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 20:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14363400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astorii/pseuds/astorii
Summary: Hattori Heiji arrives.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don’t own DCMK

Despite himself, Conan takes the role of playing child to a whole new level as he hides behind Ran’s legs, gripping just below her knee as if that will make anything better. His eyes lock onto Tsujimura Kimie as she unlocks the door to her husband’s study. Icicles climb up his back—though, maybe that’s his ailment speaking.

Today, he finds that he’s simmering in a soup of unease. Speaking of, soup is rather tempting. Perhaps, a bowl of it will help with his apparent cold.

That aside, he feels a feeling of suffocation that hadn’t been there prior to Hattori Heiji’s arrival nor had it been there when he met the loud teenager.

In fact, the feeling sprung into existence as soon as he arrived at the lovely estate.

Deep within his mind, Conan knows that Heiji isn’t the source of his weariness. He knows he feels this way because someone is dead.

Or someone is going to die.

He lets go of her leg with one hand so he can rub his throat. One of his eyes fall shut as his face scrunches up in discomfort. Whatever it is that Heiji gave him, it doesn’t appear to be helping him. To be honest, he feels a bit more ill than he did earlier.

If he’s being honest, now his throat feels like it’s on _fire_.

Conan hopes that he can make it through the rest of the day.

Kimie unlocks the door and pushes it open not even a second later. Opera music floats through as she presses onwards. Flinching because it’s rather loud and his hearing is sensitive at the moment, Conan finds that the feeling in his chest has worsened and he almost cannot breathe. Following suit of everyone else, he enters the room.

On the desk is a stack of books piled high. While not too concerning, he finds it to be a bit questionable. He looks around the room, stumbling as his vision warps around him. He wipes a bead of sweat from his brows as he tries to remain focused and in this world.

Conan staggers forward, hoping to find the man at the desk. Much to his dismay, Ran picks him up, chastising him for moving around so much if he’s feeling unwell. He grimaces as he had hoped she would not notice his current state, but he feels a little content knowing she’s such a concerned and doting familial figure.

His contentment doesn’t last long as he takes in a sharp intake of breath. Something foreboding twists in his gut and he finds that he can’t breathe. He almost throws his arms around Ran in an attempt to ground himself, but he refrains from doing so. Instead, he pushes away from her, straining to watch as Kimie begins to say her husband’s name, coaxing him out of what must be a deep sleep.

Then, before he can even comprehend, the man falls to the ground, laying still and unmoving even as his wife fussed over him, dropping to her knees and shaking his shoulders to no avail.

Panic ensues.

Ran doesn’t set him down, but Conan knows before anyone else does. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word. In her arms, he stays because he can’t find it within himself to do anything. All he can think to do is capture Kimie’s attention with his demanding and horrified stare.

That man is dead.

And he died right in front of them.

When the dead man’s wife takes notice of his gaze, they hold contact for a second before she returns to fretting about her husband. Someone tells Ran to call the police. So she won’t upset him, Ran puts him down and she runs off. Conan seizes the opportunity to go over and investigate.

Upon doing so, he bumps heads with Heiji, which doesn’t help with his persistent headache. The teen yells at him to move out of the way, which also does nothing to quell the pounding in his head. He almost scowls, but he tells himself that doing so will solve nothing.

When the dark-skinned teen advises him to get lost, Conan relents, but having seen a needle and a small red dot just below the man’s ear and the purplish hue of his lips, he deduces that the cause of death is a poison and that the killer is none other than Kimie. Sliding his eyes over to the left allows for him to catch sight of a yelling man that no one else can see.

He filters the voice out, rubbing his temple. Once more, yelling does not help him in his current state. Grinding his teeth against each other, he takes a step in one direction, almost losing balance because his eyes have screwed themselves shut at some point.

Conan opens his eyes, narrowing them as he looks at Heiji. He wonders why the teen thinks that he has so much power over everyone in this situation. Thinking back, he recalls the Osakan claiming to be a detective seeking a battle of wits with Kudō.

•••

Shinichi appears, a sweating mess in clothes that almost hang off his shoulders. He gives a brief smile at his childhood friend, but dutifully ignores her otherwise. He staggers inside the study, wiping his brows as sweat continues to congregate on his forehead.

Somehow, he knows this isn’t permanent.

The detective almost winces at the volume of Heiji’s voice. Then, Shinichi tells him that his deduction is off the mark. Calmly, he reveals the trick used to commit this crime. He names the criminal and then explains the motive.

Kimie confesses when it’s apparent that she can’t play innocent. She confirms Shinichi’s deductions, telling everyone her side of the story. And, after that, she’s taken away.

With a sideways glance, Shinichi watches the man vanish.

His back is pressed against something and he feels an excruciating pain spread through his body as he pitches forward.

Before it’s too late, he runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh!! I’m sorry I have bad planning skills. I’m horrible at planning. :/
> 
> See, I’m trying to write everything in order of the episodes?? I kind of forgot about introducing Hattori. Whoops.
> 
> And, my apologies. This chapter is supposed to be the No Immunity For The Diplomat episode, which I haven’t watched in a while. The next chapter is an interlude. The third is going to cover the Footsteps Of The Hero episode or whatever.
> 
> The ending is horribly written because I decided last minute to cover the episode where Hattori finds out Conan is Shinichi as well.


	2. Interlude

They’ll figure this out.

That much he tells her over the phone. He hears something in the background—something soft, something choked and muffled. In his chest, his heart constricts, something curling around it—like a noose, wrapping around tight and squeezing the life out of him.

Conan shoves his back against the wall. His fingers spasm a bit as he tightens them around his phone and around his bow tie. Then, he laughs a bit, his eyes coated in a shiny sheen. Again, he tells her that they’ll figure this out. He doesn’t tell her that it will probably be a while, but she gets the message anyway.

She says to him that she misses his annoying self. His lips curl up on one side at that and he tells her the same thing, more or less. Before the conversation can go any further downhill, he makes an offhand comment about how she should be having fun with her friends.

Much to his surprise, she snaps at him, her voice cracking and falling apart as she tells him that she can’t do that until he’s here because he’s her friend too. He falls silent, frowning as he slides down the wall. The transition from a standing to sitting position isn’t quite smooth because his legs give out and he falls onto the ground. Conan says that he needs to go, that he still has his case.

He hangs up. She lets him.

With a frustrated sigh, he averts his eyes, staring with petulance and despondence in his gaze directed towards the wall before him. His phone and bow tie fall into his lap and he ignores the brush of cold air. Despite the discomfort, he brings his legs closer to his chest, squishing the two fallen articles between his legs and stomach. He rests his chin on his knees, frowning.

Next to him, a voice drifts on the wind. He puts in little effort to actually look at the body of this voice. With a scoff, he replies, saying something about surely someday—surely someday what?

•••

Don’t lie to her again.

She tells him that the next time they speak on the phone. Ran yells at him, her voice heated and angry and sad. Don’t lie to her again—just don’t. If he’s not so sure when he’s coming back, he shouldn’t avoid saying so. She’s tired of his being away because she misses her friend.

In reply to that, he tells her that it’s more so avoiding the truth because lying sounds cruel.

She hangs up. He doesn’t call her back.

Conan laughs, sounding a little broken as he runs a hand through his hair. Quickly, he composes himself and begins heading back to the agency. Behind the calm facade, his mind is frazzled and fried from stress and strain. As he’s making his way, he passes by a shop with televisions behind the window. He sees something that catches his eye and hears something that captures his interest.

As if the people could sense his despondency, the sea of civilians parts, allowing for his easy return. Though, the announcement he’s managed to pick up on has lifted his spirits a bit. Perhaps, things are looking up. Maybe someone’s taking pity on him.

•••

Why?

Conan doesn’t know exactly why he was able to revert back to his old self at that last case. He thinks that his appearance is what has turned his and Ran’s relationship into the roaring waves in an unrelenting storm. Based on his observations, it might have been that drink given to him by the Osakan. He doesn’t dare try the drink again because there is no way he can even hope to steal another drop without Ran finding out.

Shinichi does not make an attempt to call Ran. He thinks that she needs time, thinks that she needs space.

The little detective pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering what he can do in this situation. He’s not exactly very well-versed in this human interaction thing. He’s a little afraid that she does not want to speak to him ever again. then, he tells himself that she’s just upset and that it will pass because she’s a kind soul who would never abandon a friend.

Though, isn’t that what she did all those years ago? She just left him because no one wanted to be friends with the kid who—

Enough.

•••

He walks through the park, long after dark.

Ran’s at an overnight karate practice and the old man is out drinking and playing mahjong as per usual when his daughter isn’t home to pinch his ears when he arrives back. The both of them are under the delusion that he’s staying with the professor to test a new video game. And, as it is, that isn’t the case.

Conan finds a minor degree of tranquility in the park. Although not much, it’s certainly welcome given recent events. Despite it all, his fingers are curled and ready to grab at his watch or his belt in case he isn’t alone—then again, he almost never is.

Technically, this is considered trespassing as the park is only open from sunrise to sunset.

A voice right next to him says that they should be going now, that they shouldn’t be here so late and so alone. Conan almost scoffs, but he begins to agree when he hears a rustling from quite a few meters away. A shiver runs down his spine and he turns around, not daring to look back.

Perhaps it’s an animal—like a squirrel or a mouse.

He won’t bother checking though because it’s about time he heads back. He’s hungry and the agency is about three or so blocks away. Conan bites his lip and begins to walk faster.

When he’s under the glow of a streetlight, he peers behind himself. He blinks at the darkness, but pushes forward and back to the place he needs to learn to call home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in case you didn’t figure it out, the announcement that he heard was for the Sherlock Holmes contest.
> 
> Also, that park scene? Just a filler to get this to 1k words. The noises he heard are just a nod to one of my story ideas, but it may become important in a later part of the series.
> 
> Btw, the first line of the park scene is an allusion of sorts to a Hamilton song.
> 
> Some may have noticed a change in writing style. Or feel. Idk. I wrote this weeks ago and haven’t touched it since. Whoops. :P
> 
> And, before anyone asks about why he laughs, it’s kind of his way of coping? It’s my silly little headcanon from the English dub theme in the beginning of the series. See, there’s a line that goes “[a]nd when I felt like I should cry, I laughed away my tears,” or something like that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hattori Heiji finds out.

Ran finds it hard to deny him the opportunity to participate in a contest for all things _Sherlock Holmes_.

He feels as childish as he must look. Meeting fellow enthusiasts is what keeps him awake and thriving during the long car ride to their destination spot. While he may look young, he can’t help but feel like he belongs as everyone fusses over his name, which is his secret homage to one of his favorite authors. It’s nice to find people who aren’t put off by his admittedly strong interest in the London-based fictional detective.

Conan is ever so thankful that he’s been given this opportunity. Why, ever since that fateful day that he found out about the contest... he’s just so excited so please forgive him. It’s a little embarrassing how much he wants to gush over the subject with those who appreciate his taste in books. It’s a rather nice change from the annoyed comments and rolling eyes.

Although, he can’t deny that something about the whole affair doesn’t feel quite right. The entire thing is too good to be true, but he doesn’t dare to say for fear of jinxing himself. He wants one night—just one night to feel like an actual kid. To him, this night could be his personal candy store. With his luck, however, it may not ring true for long.

•••

The stench of death is strong—and not just because a person had burned to death.

After visiting the burn site, Conan is reminded that not all those who are dead leave behind any... remnants. He holds a handkerchief over the lower half of his face so he doesn’t need to breathe in any more of the dirtied air than necessary.

His chest feels heavy and his heart is beating wildly in his chest. With the recent goings-on since his arrival, it’s no wonder he felt such a feeling during the ride over here. If only he had listened to it, maybe then the victims would still be alive.

They surprisingly aren’t around to help him.

•••

Ever since he’s found himself in the constant company of another, he’s learned to build a good poker face.

With that knowledge under his belt, Conan manages to maintain the mask of a confused and innocent child as he regards Heiji with a bemused frown. He asks if the detective is okay, tilting his head just a bit and furrowing his brows. To add to the effect, he scratches the back of his head as if it will extract any ideas as to what’s wrong with the Osakan.

As he doesn’t seem all too convinced by Conan’s act, Heiji makes his deduction clear once more. To the boy with the big glasses, he says, “Yer Kudō, aren’t ya? No use hidin’ it, kid. I dunno how ya did it, but I know yer him.”

In another attempt to fend off suspicion, the faux child asks exactly how it’s possible that a teenager shrinks by two feet into the body of a child that’s approximately ten years younger than that of the one Heiji claims him to be. He says something about how there’s no way even the most genius of scientists can figure that out. Still, much to his ire, the dark-skinned teenager continues on probing Conan with his deduction, saying there’s no way that the seemingly impossible guess is wrong.

Then, as if worn out by having to defend his conclusion, Heiji threatens to tell Ran, whom he realizes has no idea of Conan’s true identity. When he calls out to her, claiming to have found out something grand and glorious that she’s sure to find both fascinating and disbelieving, the shrunken sleuth jumps up, drawing attention to himself as he reminds his dear guardian that they should be heading back now that the case is solved.

Later, as they all walk out with the intent of going back to Beika where the Mouris and their little charge will return to the agency as well as where Heiji will disembark on his journey back to Osaka, Conan manages a side-eyed glance, silently telling the dark-skinned detective to join him. On the ride back, the two sit across from each other, just a few seats away from Ran and Kogoro.

“You’ve figured me out,” Conan says, keeping his voice low as he leans back in his seat. With one leg crossed over the other and his back straight and poised, he gives off an elegant air, demanding nothing but the greatest of attention. Next to him, a blank face mirroring his own stares at Heiji.

“Guess I did,” Heiji remarks, sounding rather cocky. “It’d do ya well ta work on yer dialect. Ya sounded nothin’ like me earlier. Frankly, it sucked and I’m surprised ya fooled the rest of ‘em.”

“I appreciate your candor,” says the little detective, his voice lilting with deadpan and sarcasm.

Cachinnating, Heiji pitches forward, barely keeping from bumping heads with Conan. Then, when the laughing on his part subsides, he asks on a more serious note about how such an event is possible. With a cautious look around to make sure no one is listening in _(—it seems that everyone else onboard is resting or otherwise occupied—)_ , the blue-eyed wonder recounts his tale.

Heiji listens on with interest, his eyes flashing with various emotions. When Conan finishes, the Osakan makes a promise to help him with his mission. And, although he’s a little adverse to the idea, it doesn’t take long for him to warm up to the idea of having a bit of help from his fellow teen detective.

Besides, he thinks, having such an ally could prove to be useful as it’s easier for Heiji to exercise his influence than it is for himself. There aren’t many people who are willing to listen to a child and it’s hard for his teenaged alter ego to hold any strong influence when he can’t even provide his exact and true status.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Les œufs. Heiji’s dialect sucks. I’m gonna go work on other fics now.


End file.
